Sermon for the Resurrection of Our Lord – Easter Sunday

April 9, 2023. Texts: Acts 10:34-43; Colossians 3:1-4; Matthew 28:1-10.  

Mystery. It’s just part of Easter. Always has been, always will be.

Not everyone is comfortable with mystery. Which is understandable. The root of the word means something obscure or inexplicable. And when something inexplicable happens, we might either dismiss it as fraudulent, or assume that somewhere there is a perfectly rational explanation.

Mysteries however are not always so easily dispensed with. Even if you are inclined to disbelieve something, the circumstances surrounding a mystery might draw you into it anyway. This very thing happened, in a rather unexpected way, about ten years ago to a minister.

The minister was preparing to do a wedding for a beloved elder couple in the congregation. Both had been married and widowed, and this marriage in the autumn of their lives was a thing of joy to all their friends and family. Although many wanted to attend the ceremony, the couple decided to keep it very small – no attendants, and only their grown children and spouses there as witnesses. Afterwards however, there was to be a reception to which many were invited.

Because there was no best man or maid of honor the minister offered to take care of the wedding rings and bring them to the ceremony. A few minutes before the wedding was to begin the minister reached into a pocket for the rings. One ring was there, but the other was gone.

After a panicked search, and with no time to keep searching, a substitute ring was borrowed from the organist. The bride and groom trusted the minister’s word: the ring would be found. And the ceremony went off without another hitch.

While everyone else went on to the reception, the minister took up searching again. All afternoon, and into the early evening, steps were retraced, pockets turned out again and again, the floor examined and swept. But the ring was not found. The minister went home for the night, still consumed with worry and sick at heart about the missing ring.

The next day the minister searched again and again. The ring had vanished. Had someone come through the church and, seeing it, picked it up from the floor? If so, was it now hopelessly gone to a seedy pawnshop? Was it never to be seen again? The thought was too awful to contemplate.

Early in the afternoon a member of the church stopped by and saw the minister frantically searching. She listened to the story of the missing ring with sympathy and thought for a moment. Then she said, “I have a friend who is a psychic; he might be able to help. He has just retired, and he lives in another state, but we can always call him and ask.”

This was awkward. Surreal even. The minister felt torn. Would this go against some essential faith principle? Would it reflect poorly on the adequacy of prayer as a cry to God for help?

When Paul wrote to the Colossians saying “Set your minds on the things that are above”, did he put boundaries around it? No. And these circumstances were dire. So the psychic was called.

Though he was no longer actively practicing the psychic business, the man was kind, and willing to help. He asked several questions about the ring. There was a longish pause, and then he said, “The ring will be found. It fell out of a pocket and rolled away. It is near some plants.”

While still not entirely trusting the psychic’s confidence, the minister was heartened by the promise that the ring would be found, and returned to the search with renewed vigor. The vague reference to plants was challenging though. There were plants everywhere, inside and outside.

About an hour later the minister’s hope was again fading when a young girl whose mother worked at the church came by and noticed the search. The girl’s offer of help was gratefully accepted. Not five minutes later she came to the minister and said, “I found this ring under the bush over there. Is it the one you’re looking for?” The minister’s relief cannot be overstated.

Well anyway. Back to Easter. Jesus was dead and gone. The implications of that were just too awful to contemplate. Some of his followers went into hiding in the face of this reality. Others had simply vanished. But still the facts had to be faced.

Two women, both called Mary (says Matthew) went to the tomb out of respect and duty. But there they were confronted with a mystery. How could the tomb be empty? Who was responsible? Where was Jesus’s body?

There is no evidence that the women prayed in that moment. Instead, they later related an amazing scene. A huge earthquake…a bright angel…guards fainting from fear. All these things the women recounted, along with an unexpected message from the angel. Jesus is not gone. He is no longer dead. Go, summon the disciples. They will find him in Galilee.

The women’s relief cannot be overstated. Pure joy quickened their steps and they ran to tell their friends. But the mystery continued to unfold. Jesus, not at all dead, stopped them in their tracks, with the amazing words, “Greetings!” No, wait, it was so much better than that. What Jesus said was, “Be glad!” And the women’s delight cannot be overstated.

The women flung themselves at his feet in simple acceptance, in the wonder of such graceful words. There was much to be glad about. Especially, the mystery of faith that, what seemed completely lost to us, could be found. Especially, the mystery of how sin and evil are overwhelmed by love. Especially the mighty mystery that death is not the end we believe it to be.

And then, it was time for the women to go. They had a story to share with the others. This mystery of the empty tomb would enfold their brothers too.

Encounters with mystery cannot be reduced to fact. They happen despite our desire for explanation, and our determination to know for certain. The mystery of resurrection summons us and perplexes us and leaves us breathless with wonder. To the everlasting glory of God.

Easter did just that, so long ago. And the resurrection story in fact, is still unfolding. Even though we are sometimes reluctant to poke a hole in the thorny hedges of our doubt, God’s most beautiful mystery will persistently find us and bid us enter in.